When comes the night with beauteous skies, I think of your tear-dimmed eyes, Their mute entreaty that I stay, Although your lips sent me away; And then falls memory's bitter blight, And dark--so dark becomes the night. HER EYES TWIN POOLS Her eyes, twin pools of mystic light, The blend of star-sheen and black night; O'er which, to sound their glamouring haze, A man might bend, and vainly gaze. Her eyes, twin pools so dark and deep, In which life's ancient mysteries sleep; Wherein, to seek the quested goal, A man might plunge, and lose his soul. THE AWAKENING I dreamed that I was a rose That grew beside a lonely way, Close by a path none ever chose, And there I lingered day by day. Beneath the sunshine and the show'r I grew and waited there apart, Gathering perfume hour by hour, And storing it within my heart, Yet, never knew, Just why I waited there and grew. I dreamed that you were a bee That one day gaily flew along, You came across the hedge to me, And sang a soft, love-burdened song. You brushed my petals with a kiss, I woke to gladness with a start, And yielded up to you in bliss The treasured fragrance of my heart; And then I knew That I had waited there for you. BEAUTY THAT IS NEVER OLD When buffeted and beaten by life's storms, When by the bitter cares of life oppressed, I want no surer haven than your arms, I want no sweeter heaven than your breast. When over my life's way there falls the blight Of sunless days, and nights of starless skies; Enough for me, the calm and steadfast light That softly shines within your loving eyes. The world, for me, and all the world can hold Is circled by your arms; for me there lies, Within the lights and shadows of your eyes, The only beauty that is never old. VENUS IN A GARDEN 'Twas at early morning, The dawn was blushing in her purple bed, When in a sweet, embowered garden She, the fairest of the goddesses, The lovely Venus, Roamed amongst the roses white and red. She sought for flowers To make a garland For her golden head. Snow-white roses, blood-red roses, In that sweet garden close, Offered incense to the goddess: Both the white and the crimson rose. White roses, red roses, blossoming: But the fair Venus knew The crimson roses had gained their hue From the hearts that for love had bled; And the goddess made a garland Gathered from the roses red. VASHTI I sometimes take you in my dreams to a far-off land I used to know, Back in the ages long ago; a land of palms and languid streams. A land, by night, of jeweled skies, by day, of shores that glistened bright, Within whose arms, outstretched and white, a sapphire sea lay crescent-wise.